


and the seasons will change us new

by Autodidact, spiraldistortion (bisexualthorin)



Series: Jonah Madness [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, art at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23915692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autodidact/pseuds/Autodidact, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualthorin/pseuds/spiraldistortion
Summary: “I see you.” He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, as if the truth of it doesn’t feel like a vice around Jonah’s heart.“I know,” Jonah murmurs.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus
Series: Jonah Madness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723834
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus





	and the seasons will change us new

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stickpenalties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickpenalties/gifts).



> This is the first of a series of requests Jay (@gummybyrd on twitter) and I (Cat/spiraldistortion) took as a part of a Jonah-centric art/fic collab we ran live on discord. We gave ourselves 5 minutes to plan and 40 minutes to work, and these are the results!
> 
> The prompt for this was "Jonah+music (preferably chamber music)."
> 
> The title is from 3 Rounds and a Sound by Blind Pilot
> 
> As always, huge thanks and love to everyone in the eye horror server.
> 
> Podfic recorded by Leto (Autodidact).

  
[Download](https://www.dropbox.com/s/ah5a8nm93tiw3g2/and%20the%20seasons%20will%20change%20us%20new.mp3?dl=0)

* * *

“I didn’t know you played.”

Jonah looks up from the trunk into which he was packing his things. Barnabas stands close behind him, an inscrutable look in his eye.

“Yes, well. I do. Or rather, I did.” He turns, picks up a discarded shirt to fold and tuck away. “I didn’t see the point in continuing without an audience.”

“Always about being seen with you,” Barnabas says. He reaches into the trunk and pulls the violin out. It looks small in his hands, fine and delicate, as most things do. Jonah sighs heavily.

“Can you blame me?” he asks, words bitter on his tongue. “You know better than most how much of my life has been lived invisibly.”

Barnabas hums, and the calluses on his fingers against the strings sing a rough, trembling note.

“I see you.” 

He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, as if the truth of it doesn’t feel like a vice around Jonah’s heart.

“I know,” Jonah murmurs. His hands fret across the shirt in his lap, pulling and smoothing the fabric. He hears the gentle, hollow echo of Barnabas laying the instrument down. Hands slide over his, big and warm, finding the spaces where they fit together.

“Would you play for me?”

Jonah leans back into him, gives himself over for a minute to the sensation of Barnabas’ fingers stroking against his own.

“I’m terribly out of practice, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be. Afraid, I mean,” Barnabas says, presses the tip of his nose to the curve of Jonah’s ear. “It’s only you and I. And what could be easier?

Barnabas sits back, pulls Jonah against his chest, presses the violin into his hands. Jonah runs a finger down its neck and curls his hand around the bow.

“Tell me what you want them all to see.”

Jonah has always been a man of words. Of parchment and ink and pages and quills and books. Of the knowledge they impart, of the clarity they give. But there are some things he cannot put onto paper, some bright, hot bits of his soul that get caught in his throat, stuck in his mouth.

Jonah tucks the violin under his chin and begins to speak.

  
  



End file.
